


Risk

by cecilantro



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 21:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14839674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilantro/pseuds/cecilantro
Summary: Molly doesn’t finish the sentence as he turns away from Caleb and tears after Fjord, and Caleb follows a split second later, ripping through Beau’s fingers as she lurches out to grab him.





	Risk

**Author's Note:**

> Short disclaimer list preface bc im still getting these comments:
> 
> >YES. My formatting sucks. NO. I'm not fixing it. Because you're not paying me to adjust things for you, I'm writing for the attention and for myself, and the attention isn't enough for me to think about putting myself second /dabs
> 
> >I can't tag for shit. Sorry bout it.
> 
> >I keep Getting The same Comment about how my formatting sucks and quite honestly, the number its doing on my self esteem isn't outweighed enough by the compliments and positive attention, not any more  
> So after WEDNESDAY, I won't be writing any more. Wednesday because that will make 100 CR ficlets, but after that, I'm done. I can't take any more, my self esteem is garbage and the positive comments input used to balance out the criticisms but they just... don't any more.
> 
> soz m9  
> ok now you can read

Their fights last… minutes, usually, if not mere seconds, everything happens so fast and all at once, and  _ those _ fights are exhausting. People end up hurt, aching, cut to shreds, even after those lighting-fast fights.   
This has been dragging on for almost an hour, relentless, if spread out; their enemies are thorough tacticians, they strike and draw back behind their ranged defences, and the Nein are forced to adopt similar methods.   
Streaked with soot and ash, Caleb twists around the tree to fire off another Fire Bolt and is pulled, hard, backwards, as soon at it leaves his fingers. Mollymauk, always at Caleb’s side, the blunt side of his scimitar digs hard into his arm as a crossbow bolt zips through the space his hands have just vacated.   
“Thank you.” Caleb gasps, and Molly smiles absently, staring straight through the wizard even as he uses his thumb to pull his flask from his belt and hand it over. Full of water. Caleb looks down at it and feels a pang of hurt and affection, lifts his head to thank Molly again and is silenced by a very brief kiss.   
“When this is over.” Molly says, mumbles, really, pressing his forehead to Caleb’s, “If we live-”   
“We will live.” Caleb cuts him off, and there’s a fire to his eyes and voice that brings hope back to Molly’s, “And we can talk- we can talk later.”   
He falters at the concept of  _ talking _ , but Molly smiles for him, and everything fills back up again.   
“I don’t regret much, it isn’t worth the effort, but I do regret leaving this ‘til now.”   
And then there’s Fjord, they watch him turn around a tree and run and Caleb shouts, “ _ FUCK _ ,” to give Molly the chance to understand.   
“I’m-” Molly doesn’t finish the sentence as he turns away from Caleb and tears after Fjord, and Caleb follows a split second later, ripping through Beau’s fingers as she lurches out to grab him.   
“Caleb!” She screeches after him, enraged, but throws herself back behind the tree the way the plan decrees, “You stupid- motherfucking-”   
“Shut her up!” Jester hisses, and Yasha crams a hand over Beau’s mouth, hard.

Caleb waves a hand and shouts and his breath draws in deep, he finishes the spell with a call of Molly’s name and there’s a split second of blurring world, and then Molly’s step quickens and spread as the Haste takes hold.   
The first crossbow bolt to hit Fjord is eerily reminiscent of the horrible, hooked harpoons from the fishfolk, it hits the centre of his body, just under his armor, and he gives a hollow  _ oof _ and a cough that brings up a mist of blood. He retaliates, basically without thinking, just spins and lifts a hand and there’s a crackle that sounds like whispers and lightning, two bolts of green go streaking out of his palm and the silhouette he aims at goes down and doesn’t get back up.    
“Fjord!” Caleb shouts, and pants as he runs, “Left!”   
Another arrow comes streaking out of the night, this one trailing a thick silken rope behind it, glossy and pale in the moonlight. Fjord turns. Not quick enough.   
The arrow goes straight through his shoulder, and Fjord, this time, can’t bite back the strangled screech as the hooked head of the arrow pierces and is pulled, and Fjord isn’t strong enough to fight back. The rope pulls taut, and Fjord tries so hard not to get dragged along with it but resisting forces the hooks of the arrow back into his flesh.   
And then there’s a flash.   
Molly draws his second scimitar, draws it up the centre of his chest with a neat flick and lights up the world around him with the rush of radiant light that follows. He cuts through the rope, easy, the silk can’t stand up to the radiant burn, it curls away and Molly runs along its trail. Caleb screams for him as he leaps a bush and disappears, wants to follow but Fjord is vulnerable now. So that’s where he goes instead, to Fjord’s side, nimble fingers reaching around and he braces one hand on Fjord’s good shoulder, on his tiptoes, and wrenches the arrow out by the head. His hand now is slippery with Fjord’s blood, and he winces for it, but Fjord is pressing into him almost instinctively and there’s a distant shout that forces Caleb’s brain to work outside of himself, his hands clasp at the back of Fjord’s neck with a quick incantation.   
The arrow that Beau had shouted for, aimed right for the back of Caleb’s neck, it bounces away harmlessly from the Shield- but that means that Molly’s Haste will have run out, and there’s so much happening. Fjord’s hand on Caleb’s hip is huge and warm, he pulls Caleb away so that he can turn and fire out an Eldritch blast, and then something large comes flying through the air toward them.   
Fjord drops his shield and catches it, skillfully, and Caleb’s eyes widen at the streak of blood down Molly’s face, at the flicker of his scimitar as it slips finally from his fingers to the floor, at the way that Molly is completely limp in Fjord’s arms. He remembers the first time that Molly hit the floor like this. And the second. And then everything rushes around him, he remembers reaching out and touching the blood on Molly’s face, warm and sticky and flowing still sluggishly, and the rushing. And the rushing. And white. And red. And black.   
And nothing.

 

And three days later, Caleb wakes up. In a double bed- Molly’s double bed, judging by the pile of belongings in the corner of the room- with Mollymauk beside him. Heavily bandaged, and still asleep, but still breathing. Still breathing.   
“Caleb.” Fjord’s whisper is almost excited as he scooches forward from the shadows, Caleb wonders how he hadn’t seen him before now, but he’s happy regardless. He reaches out, and Fjord takes his hand, and that’s when Caleb realises that he’s shirtless. And that there are burns, now, curling up his arms in languid spirals, the mark of his Scorching Ray. He peeps, croaks in shock, and Fjord hushes and pulls Caleb’s hand up to kiss his knuckles. He’s a hell of a distraction, Caleb has to admit, even with the bandages around his now-unarmored chest and shoulder, even his bracers have been shed in lieu of a large, loose cotton shirt that looks suspiciously like it actually belongs to Yasha.   
So this is the point of friendship they have reached, casual nudity and sharing clothes.   
Caleb’s cool with that.   
“Y’ risked your lives for me out there, Caleb, an’ y’ both very nearly died”   
“What happened after, ah,” Caleb looks over at Molly, and Fjord smiles a little, tensely,   
“You were inconsolable. Damn near destroyed half the forest, an’ decimated the army along with it.”   
“Ah.” Caleb says, quietly, and Fjord leans over and closer to him,   
“Y’know y’ didn’t need to almost kill yourselves for your feelin’s, right?” Fjord says softly, close now that Caleb can feel the warmth of his breath. Caleb smiles.   
“You should show me what I might have done instead.”   
Fjord, with that implication of permission, drops the extra inch down to kiss him. Caleb tangles his fingers with Molly’s.   
The world is still and it hurts.   
But it’s okay.   
They’re alive.


End file.
